


Her Blade Is Her Tongue

by MartellPrincess



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), game of thrones
Genre: ASoIaF, Abusive Marriage, Abusive Relationships, Bastard Bolton, Blood, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Original Stark Character, Ramsay Snow - Freeform, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Smut, Stark x Bolton, Triggers, Violence, Winterfell, Wolf Bride, rape/ Non-Con, sex scenes, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-15 13:19:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9236816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MartellPrincess/pseuds/MartellPrincess
Summary: "She is a Bolton," Ramsay tries to suppress his smile as he thinks of his Wolf Bride. "Our blades are sharp and her blade is her tongue."





	1. No More Running, My Love

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter is a first-person POV, but the rest of the story will be third-person POV. Enjoy!

He's at the end of the field, on his stallion, with his men on their horses behind him.

You stand beside the Karstark men who found you walking in the woods on their land last week. Lady Karstark is holding onto your arm. You turn to her and she smiles at you, a kind, plump woman. She was the one who gave you a place to hide, but her husband knew hiding you from Ramsay would not end well for him or his family. He sent a raven to the Winterfell Castle after a few days of your stay, but you weren't mad or scared, you understood.

You kiss Lady Karstark on the cheek and hug her before walking across the field. He's about a quarter mile away, standing on a small hill. As you walk, you see your lord husband nod to Lord Karstark behind you. When you get to your husband, he has his hand out. You look up at him and grasp it. He doesn't lean down to pick you up immediately. Instead, he just stares at you. He's smiling, being friendly in front of his men and most importantly, in front of a respectable Northern household. He rubs his thumb over your hand. "No more running, my love."

You, his love. You, Lady Lana of House Stark.

* * *

 

 


	2. Family, Duty, Honor

Lana smiles back at her husband and walks up to his leg, placing one hand on his knee. Lana takes his other hand and kisses his knuckles, knuckles that she has met many times before. 

Then, Lana opens his hand and places his palm on her cheek. She looks up at him from the ground, like he is a true lord. He likes that a lot. Lady Stark, staring up at him with loving eyes. Ramsay knows she’s faking, and Lana know he's angry, but he can’t help basking when she makes him feel like a man, which is precisely her plan. 

He finally bends down and wraps his arms around her, hoisting her onto the horse and seating her in front of him. Lana wonders if he places her in front on purpose, so she can't run off again. Not that she would. He'd catch her in a second. Running away was only possible when her husband was off on his little missions.   


He and his men turn their horses back in the direction of Winterfell, and Ramsay keeps his chin nuzzled in his wife’s shoulder and neck. As they trot back, he moves Lana’s thick Stark hair behind her shoulder. He plants a kiss on the bottom of her neck, which sends sharp goosebumps across her body.    
He puts his hand on her stomach and she quickly put her hand over his to stop him, but he moves under her cloak and over her breast. She remains calm, she knows he wants a reaction. She remains calm.   


He stops after a while and grabs onto the horse's leash again. It's no fun for him if he can't get a rise out of her. And, he knows he can just wait until the two of them are in his chambers. Lana tries not to think about it. Maybe she can insist on helping in the kitchen to feed his men a nice meal, or go to the stables to check on the animals. Trying to leave the castle walls to visit her people won't work today, she knows that much. 

* * *

When the party gets to the front of the castle walls, Ramsay stops his horse, turning to the left, into the direction of the forest.   


"Ramsay," Lana says. "I must go check on everyone."   


"The cooks and the maids will all be fine without you for just one more moment, my love."   


Some of his men look over the shoulders to see what's going on. "You all may go in. I won't be long. I miss my wife and wish to take her for a walk."   


Lana tries to get off the horse but Ramsay quickly puts his arm around her waist and pulls her into his chest. "Come on my dear," he speaks low. "You love the godswood."   


She turns back and looks over Ramsay's shoulder to watch his men mount off their horses and walk inside the gates, completely unbothered by what Ramsay might do to her. And then, they’re alone, disappearing into the woods.

When he gets her to the weirwood tree, he finally lets her go, and she jumps off. She quickly turns to face him, bracing herself for what will probably come next. She tries to think of a trick to get herself out of this one, but she comes up short. He calmly mounts and pats his stallion, then turns to her. He's smiling. He's always smiling. That twisted, evil grin that he uses to mask the demented horrors that reside in his mind. He sighs, "Oh, I've missed you."   


Lana smiles politely. "I was gone only a few nights."   


"Even one night without you is torture."   


"And even one night with you _is_."   


He chuckles and looks at the small river next to the weirwood tree that's behind her.    


"Did you want to pray? Thank the Old Gods your lord husband found you safe and sound?" He gestures to the tree and takes off his gloves.    


Lana swallows the lump in her throat, but she remains polite. "That's not why you brought me here."   


He chuckles again. "No it's not, my sweet. You're a sharp one."   


He looks at the ground, laced with snow. It's much colder here than on the Karstarks land, even though it is not too far away, yet he wears no cloak. He's in the usual boiled leather he wears for fighting and hunting. He takes two steps forward and she feels her heart in her chest, screaming at her to step back and keep distance between the two of them, but she knows he wants to see her scared. That he craves it, that he thirsts for it, so she musn’t. He puts his hands on her cheeks, cupping her sweet face in his rough palms. "I brought you here, because I want the gods you love so much to see what I'm going to do to you right now."   
Lana keeps eye contact, forcing herself not to look away from him, but she just wants to shut her eyes and scream and disappear into nothing. 

She’s not smiling anymore, and neither is he. Ramsay stays still, testing her further and further. Just when she is about to try to push him, he leans in and kisses her. It's a sweet kiss. He always does that. Starts with a sweet kiss. For those couple of seconds here and there, It’s as if he wants a loving marriage.

That is something Lana would have willingly given him, because she has nothing left in this world, no one, no purpose, no family. But, he ruined it on the wedding night and every time he could get her alone after that. He made her his toy. She still snapped back to her resilient self every now and then, but he was getting better and better at bending and breaking her to his will.     


He parts his lips from hers and his sadistic smirk is back. "Get on your knees," he whispers.   


Lana looks him in his piercing eyes. "Ramsay, no."   


He moves one of his hands down to her shoulder, then her arm, and grips it tight. He grips he chin and leans in, biting her on the cheekbone. Lana yelps. 

"Get down."   


Lana drops to her knees, and he waits a minute. She dares not look up at him. A Stark on her knees in front of a bastard, looking up at him like he's a king. She did it on the Karstark land because that was what a lady would do with her lord husband. Not now. Not with just the two of them. Not a lady to a bastard.   


He squats down so he's at her level. He lifts her chin so she can grace him with her beauty.   


"Who am I?" He asks.   


"Ramsay," she answers obediently.   


"Who am I to you?"   


"My lord husband."   


He cups her head again and shakes her. "My lord. My lord. Yes, sweetling. That is what you call me. Not Ramsay."   


He stands up again. Lana’s eyes water, looking down at his feet. "Look at me, Lana."   


She hesitantly looks up. He grins, glad that was easier than he's usually used to with her. "Give me your hands."   


She obeys, and he places her hands on the leather ties of his pants. She closes her eyes for a moment, listening to the flow of the water in the river. She looks up at him once again. "Ramsay-"   


He snaps his tongue.    


"My lord husband, please."   


"My dear wife, you are part Tully, are you not? Family, duty, honor. I am your family. This is your duty, and it should be your honor." 

Lana looks at the leather ties and hears him spit at the bottom of the weirwood tree. She slowly unties it. He doesn't fuss, he's patient, enjoying her degradation. She can see he’s already turned on by it. She brings her mouth to him, but she can't do it. He's forced himself on her night after night, but he hasn’t yet made her perform the act herself. And he's making her do it in the freezing snow, at her beloved Godswood tree.    


She has no idea what she is even supposed to do. But something in her takes over and kisses him. She is fast, her body wanting to get it over with before she can properly think and breakdown. He gets harder and she feels the tears she has been holding onto this whole time at the rims of her eyes. He puts a hand behind her head. "Open your mouth."    


She cries, but he does not listen. He forces himself in her, holding her by her hair, moving her back and forth against her will. The tears blur her vision and she can't breathe because of the crying. She can hear him in his pleasure, moans escaping his mouth.    


After what feels like forever, he groans and grunts and fills her mouth with his seed.    


He pulls her head back and releases himself. She kneels down to spit but he quickly gets on his knees. He puts one hand behind her head and one over her mouth.   


"No, no, my lady." He's still panting. "You're not going to spit it out. That's precious cargo, my love. Honey of your lord husband."   


She wants to throw up. She’s gagging and her tears are trailing over the hand he has wrapped over her mouth. She can't make out words, but he knows She is begging and pleading for him to stop.    


But he doesn't, and she swallows.   


He lets her go and laughs, standing up. He watches Lana crawl to the river. She bring the water to her mouth and spits it out. She does it countless times, but the feeling doesn't leave. She puts her finger down her throat.    


"Ah-ah-ah," he commands behind her. "Waste not."   


Lana continues to cry on the edge of the river, until something in her takes over once again. She takes a deep breathe, and the tears are gone.   


She puts her red hands in the water and places them over her face to cool herself off. She keeps her ice cold fingers under her eyes to stop any redness or puffiness that may be coming about.    


Ramsay chuckles from behind her, standing by his horse. "This is my favorite part. Watching you turn yourself back into a lady for your people."   
Lana sits back and steadies her breathing while she fixes the strands of hair that frame her face. Then she stands up and turns to Ramsay. 

"Ready, my dear?" he asks in that shrilling, nasally voice.   
For today, Lana is finished with smiling and politeness. She walks up to the horse and gets on, and he gets on behind her. As the horse walks you back, Ramsay takes in the fresh air. "Ah, I feel so...satisfied. Family, duty,  _ honor _ ,” he emphasizes.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Should I continue this?


	3. I Am His and He Is Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Lady Lana, did you enjoy your trip?"

When they get past the gate doors and hop off Ramsay’s stallion, an old man catches Lana’s eye. Lana recognizes him as one of the kitchen cook’s men. He stops moving hay stacks from a crate to the ground as soon as he sees her, and runs her way. Lana smiles at him with grace and bows her head slightly as he bows to her.

"Fruit, my lady?" He asks, holding a basket up to her. “They have come all the way from Dorne. Greysen brought them back from King’s Landing.”

Ramsay speaks from behind Lana. "She had a snack in the woods," he says, and when Lana glances over at him, he’s smirking.

"Yes, but I'm not at all satisfied. I just had a few, weak, pruned berries." She grabs an apple from the basket and dismisses the man. Lana takes a bite and looks up at Ramsay, who is smiling, but pushing his tongue into his bottom lip.

Lana almost laughs at how easy it is to bruise his manly ego. She smiles while she chews the deliciously sweet fruit, and he steps up, putting his hands on the sides of both her arms. He forces her to stay put as he closes the distance between the two of them.

Ramsay looks at Lana lustfully, as he speaks in a low voice. “I have some business to attend to, but I’ll see you tonight.”

Lana swallows the piece of apple, realizing her throat is suddenly dry due to nerves. “Can't wait,” she lies and he kisses her lips before letting her go and heading to his battle room.

Lana stood in the courtyard for a moment. She didn't want to move. Then she realized her shoulders were starting to cower over, which wasn't ladylike at all, so she stood tall and walked toward the main hall.

She takes her time walking around and talking to as many people as she can, for she knows once she gets to her chambers, Ramsay will have her locked in there for days.

She picked up some books from the library, went to the septa for some new fabric so she could do her sewing, and went to the maester to see if he had anything for her. He handed her a pouch of tiny glass vials. Greysen had also them for her from King’s Landing, along with that fruit. No one said he stole them, but she knew. He was a boy of fourteen who was the most mischievous and clever child you’d ever meet. He was tall and thin, one of the merchant’s boys who told the best stories of his travels. A lot of people told Lana his stories were highly exaggerated, but she loved them no less.

The vials held different beauty oils. Some for hair, some for her face, her body, her nails, everything. She couldn't let herself become ugly with all the mistreatment she received at the hand of her Lord Husband. That's exactly what Ramsay wants to happen.

 

* * *

 

On her way to the tower where she resides, Lana hears a group of young women. Just by the sounds of their laughter she knows it's Myranda and a few of Lana and Walda’s ladies. She looks up to meet eyes with the girl who holds a painfully obvious amount of jealousy for Lana. “Myranda,” Lana says.

“Lady Lana.” Myranda grins with that devilish look on her face that Lana has come to know and walks across the yard to Lana as the other girls leave. “Did you enjoy your trip?”

Lana squints slightly before chuckling. “I think everyone knows it wasn’t a ‘trip’. Especially you.”

“Well-”

“I only say that because that mark under your jaw lets me know he took out his anger on you. It looks like you suffered the consequences of my...trip.”

Myranda puts her fingers to the fresh scar that had to have been made by a dagger. Then she smirks. “I'm not afraid of a little blood. In fact, it heats my core. Ramsay knows this.”

“Well I'm glad someone was there to keep his bed warm.” Lana smiles, a genuine smile, and this confuses Myranda. Lana holds back her laughter, adding, “I have a task for you, Myranda. Are you up for it?”

“What kind of task my lady?”

Lana studies Myranda’s smug face for a moment before she speaks again. “I will let you know as the days come.”

Lana had thought about this task for a while, but she wasn't absolutely sure she wanted to implement it just yet. She couldn't really trust Myranda, but she was sure that Myranda would love the task nonetheless.

Lana finally goes up to her chambers and sets her stuff on the table, only to find a bunch of new fabrics, threading needles, books, and hair pins in a basket at the center of the table. She smiles to herself, knowing they're from Greysen.

Lana’s lady walks into her room, and greet her with a huge smile. “My lady, shall I set up a bath for you?”

“Yes please, thank you Greta.”

As Lana undresses herself, she realizes It’s been almost a week since she has been home. She hadn't really checked over the last few days, but she knew she still had to have bruises all over her body from her last night with Ramsay before she fled. Lana knows Greta knows she’s hurt, but Greta holds her tongue. That is, until she's washing her hair.

"What did he do to you?" The young girl asks.

There is a pin drop silence.

"Whatever he wants," Lana sighs, sinking into the tub. "I am his and he is mine."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave comments :)


	4. A Bastard's Wit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we meet Greysen.

Ramsay isn't in the castle walls during supper, so Lana comfortably enjoys her meal with her people in the main hall. Greysen shows off a new trick he’s learned. He takes a coin and makes it disappear, but then brings it back by hovering his hand over anybody’s ear.

“Sit down and eat your food!” Septa Marion yells while everyone laughs.

“Greysen,” Lana says once he has finally calmed down and taken his seat across from her. “Have you decided where you want to go next?”

“Dorne, my Lady,” He smiles wide. “I have fallen in love. King’s Landing has this new _color_ and _life_ to it with Prince Martell there.”

Lana smiles back, although it does hurt to hear how eager he is to leave Winterfell. “Well summer does suit you better than winter.”

“Well I am a sweet, summer child. Isn’t that right, Septa?”

Septa Marion rolls her eyes and the people around them laugh.

Lana looks behind Greysen and sees one of the Bolton guards posted at the side of the wall. Even when Ramsay is gone, his presence truly isn't.

“Oh!” Lana snaps out of her own thoughts. “Thank you so much for the goods you brought me, Greysen.”

“Oh right,” Greysen nods, speaking through a mouthful of food. “Do you like the books I brought?”

“Yes they look very interesting. How much do I owe you?”

Greysen stops inhaling down food and looks up at his lady. He grins mischievously. “It’s no bother, my Lady.”

Greta giggles. “Oh, I'm sure it’s not,” Lana says.

 

* * *

 

 

After dinner, Lana asks Greysen to walk her to her chambers. “Greysen, I want to send you to school. In Dorne.”

Greysen looks at her and stops for a second, but then continues walking slower. “What do you mean, my Lady?”

“You need an education. You can't be a thief all your life.”

Greysen grins, and Lana admires his inability to ever be offended. “Lady Lana, I don't steal as a living. I steal because it's fun for me to irritate people. You know that better than anyone.”

She laughs as he adds, “School just is not for me. I have my smarts- a different kind. Not the reading big books kind.That kind won't help a Snow much. It’s a bastard’s wit that gets him far.”

She nods, although she doesn't really agree that wit is the only way. Jon Snow is a proof of that.  

“But still, I want to send you to Dorne. This place,” she sighs. “It will ruin a bright boy like you.”

He smiles. “I’d be sad to no longer work for the greatest Lady I have ever known.”

“I’d be sad to lose the closest thing I have to a little brother, but if you love something, you have to let it go.”

He nods, then sighs, and for the first time she has ever seen, he isn't grinning from ear to ear. “When do you want me gone?”

“I don't want you _gone_ , don't say it like that.” She puts her hand on his shoulder reassuringly. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank everyone for the Kudos! What do you guys think of Greysen so far? Let me know!


	5. The One Who Loves To Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lana's first night back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about how long I took uploading this chapter! I'm going to try to upload once a week from now on. Hold me accountable if I slack again!

Lana lays in her bed, hoping Ramsay doesn't come to her chambers. He was quite embarrassed after what she said in front of the kitchen man who offered her fruit, but he turned that embarrassment into anger when he grabbed her and kissed her, sort of as a warning of what was to happen tonight. Lana lightly put her fingers to her lips. She could still feel him. Not just that kiss, but what he forced her to do in the woods. She quickly puts her hand down to her side and forces the thought out of her mind.

There were a few rare moments where Ramsay’s ego would actually seem bruised and Lana would notice him avoiding her eyes when she was near. Or perhaps he only behaved that way to catch her off-guard. Because whenever that did happen, a few hours later he’d find her, either after talks of strategy and war with his men, or after a hunt with his boys and his hounds, and he'd come into her room and degrade her in his most creative ways.

Forcing himself on her and being done with it just wasn't enough. He said there was an art to it. And although Lana fought and kept her head held high, when it was just the two of them in her chambers, she was terrified.

* * *

She had heard Myranda almost an hour ago, whispering to some girl underneath the staircase to Lana’s chambers. She called Lana a “smiling bitch who thinks the world should revolve around her.” She also told the girl she wanted to spit in Lana’s face. Lana found it quite amusing. She’d actually love to see Myranda try that.

The door unlocks and Ramsay comes in. Lana sits up and he smiles at the sight of her, perched up on the bed like a present for him, with her dark-brown, voluminous hair tousled from exhaustion and restlessness.

Those thick, dark lashes lift up to reveal the deep brown eyes of hers. They widen as she stares him down.

“Good evening, my love,” he says in that chilling, raspy voice. He takes off his belt and sets in on the table. It lands with a metal clunk because of the four or five small daggers he carries on it. He looks at the things Greysen has brought his lady.

“Who gave you all this?”

“No one.” The Wolf Bride lies. “I picked up all this stuff today. Some of the merchants came back last night with things from King's Landing.”

He takes off his leathers until he is just in his black pants and thin cotton undershirt, then he sits by the table.

Ramsay looks over at his wife, eyeing those pouty, pink lips of hers. He feels those same lips on him, just as they were in the woods, doing what they could to please him. Just the thought of it begins to turn him on again. Ramsay puts his hand up, calling her over with the flick of his first two fingers.

Lana groans. “Oh Ramsay, just get on with whatever it is you plan on doing to me.”

Ramsay chuckles. “Just come here, Lana.”

She remains seated on the center of the bed, the skirt of her nightdress surrounding her like petals on a flower.

The smile falls off his face and he stands up. Lana watches as he walks to the other side of the bed. They both look at each other, then he smirks and and lays down in front of her, on his side. He brings his legs up to the edge of the mattress to keep them from dangling off the bed, but to Lana it seems as though he’s trying to give her less options of escape.

Ramsay takes Lana’s soft hand and holds it in his calloused palm. “Lana, you disobeyed me. We still need to... _talk_ about that.”

Ramsay didn’t do talking.

“I did not disobey you, Ramsay.”

Ramsay chuckles at that. “Then who was it who ran away for the--what is this--the seventh, eighth time?”

“You’re the one who loves to hunt.”

Ramsay looks up at her, smiling at that witty answer. “I do," he nods, turning over the hand in his palm, "but I wouldn’t want to hunt my own wife. What if I hurt her?”

He brings his other arm over to her hand and begins to lightly trace the veins at her wrist. Lana swallows. “I guess we’ll never know since you couldn’t find me yourself.”

“Ah, yes. Lord Karstark did have to give you away after all.” He looks into Lana’s eyes and brings her knuckles up to his lips. He kisses her softly. She tries to pull her hand away but his grip tightens quickly.

“I don’t know what else to do, Lana. I’m helpless. My forms of discipline just don’t work on you.”

As he moves to sit up on his knees right in front of Lana, she starts to panic. “You’ve done enough today. I don’t need to be disciplined.”

“I think you do.”

“No,” her voice rings with plea but she does all she can to remain strong. “Treating me worse than your hounds won’t make me love you.”

Ramsay nods, but then clicks his tongue. “No, that’s not it. I don’t need your love, my wife. I need your obedience. I mean, what ever happened to ‘a Northern lady makes an obedient wife’?” Ramsay asks.

It’s an old saying she too would hear her septa tell her constantly all throughout her child and teen years. It never made sense to her, because the Northern women she had known were strong-willed, and followed their own compass, and Northern husbands like her father, Lord Eddard Stark, loved that.

Lana did believe in honoring her husband, but she did not believe in being a submissive beating bag. She had never even known a man could be like that to his wife. She had never seen it in her life. Northern men were respectful and kind. She was always meant to marry a counterpart of King Robb. He surrounded himself with true men. Well, mostly true men. All except Roose Bolton. And now she had this snake of a human to call her husband.

Ramsay lightly swings her hand side to side. In an instant, he grabs her wrist and flips her hand over, then he forces Lana’s pinky back. She feels a sharp _snap_ and hears a _crack_ and she shrieks, yanking her hand away.

Lana jumps off the bed, but doesn't even make it past the table when Ramsay wraps his arms around her and pulls her into him. She bent forward to try to pry herself free, but he was too strong. She fought and kicked but he got her onto the bed without much work.

Ramsay laughs as he gets her onto her back. He pins Lana’s screaming hand onto the bed, it’s throbbing madly. Lana lurches herself onto her side and consequently rolls right into Ramsay’s chest, pinning her wrist with her other hand in order to stabilize it. She can feel the pain shooting all throughout the back of her hand as well.

Ramsay planned on injuring her more, but now her breasts lie on top of his forearm as she tries to get him off her hand. He lets go of her wrist, now more interested in the rest of her body.

Ramsay positions himself on top of Lana, placing one arm by the side of her head, while the other slides up her thigh, pulling up her night dress. Lana tries to scoot up and get out of his grip without causing any more pain to her hand, but he locks his other arm around her waist and pulls her back down.

Tears fill her eyes, but she continues blinking them away so she can look at her throbbing hand. He pushes her hair to her other side and begins kissing her cheek and neck. Lana wriggles all over the place, doing whatever she can to get away from his kisses. He knows very well how much she hates feeling him on her, especially his lips and tongue.

She feels his groin in between her legs and starts to whine. She knows it's about to happen, so she squeezes her hand over her wrist, wanting to focus more on the pain of her burning hand instead of feeling him inside her. She grits her teeth, doing anything she can to feel anything _but_ him.

Ramsay thrusts himself inside of her and she cries out. He keeps his face against hers as he thrusts into her from behind. His chin is nuzzled into her shoulder, and his arm keeps him propped up. Lana tries to get her head away from his, but his bicep is right there, so she has nowhere to go, nowhere to breathe, and nowhere to get away from his heat and sweat. She just has to bare it.

They both grunted, Ramsay from pleasure and Lana from excruciating pain.

Ramsay turns his face towards the side of her head, pushing into her even harder now. He wants her to hear the grunts, wants them to ring in her ear, so he pushes and pushes as his mouth presses up against the side of her head, right above her ear.

Lana starts sobbing, but she can't really feel the tears running down her cheeks amongst everything. She can't feel the delicacy of her tears through the different types of shooting pains. All she can do is keep her hand firmly planted.

Ramsay licks the side of her face and she shrieks, trying to stretch her neck out to get away, but he just moves down to her neck and begins to suck on her. He digs his teeth into the side of her neck and bites hard. Lana finally lets go of her hand.

She grabs Ramsay by his hair and squeezes like hell, trying to yank him off. He eventually does, but only to wrap his rough hand around her throat instead. She starts to choke, gasping for air as she lets go of Ramsay’s hair. She attempts to pull his hand off as his thrusts become faster and lose rhythm. She thinks her agony is finally coming to an end, when Ramsay instead flips her over.

Lana’s hand shoots a sharp pain that goes down past her wrist as her husband forces himself inside her once more. Lana coughs and starts to regain her breath.

“Ramsay, please!” She cries.

Ramsay rips her dress from it's collar down to the waist. She sees the wicked smile on his face before he sinks his front teeth under her shoulder. He scrapes his teeth downward until he gets to her breast, then sucks and bites her nipple.

Lana shrieks and uses her last efforts to fight him off. She swings her working hand into the side of his face just as he releases himself inside of her with one last, hard grunt.

Ramsay groans and cups the side of his face, laughing as he finally gets off of her.

Lana slides off the bed, looking for her robe through her tears. She hears Ramsay mocking her sobs in the background with his cackling.

He lies on his back, catching his breath. “Now that was some good fun, Lana. Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

She finds her robe on the floor and heads for the door.

“Ah-ah-ah!” Ramsay says and she looks at him, lying with his arm folded behind his head, holding it upright. He wags one finger with his free hand, telling her _no_.

She ignores him and moves across the bed to get to the door. He jumps off. “Where do you think you're going?” He asks, getting between her and the door.

“The maester!” She yells, still crying.

“Why are you going there?” He plays his innocence.

She holds her hand up, clinging to the lifeless wrist. “Look at what you did!”

Ramsay snaps his tongue and sighs. “How do I know you won’t run away?”

Lana has had enough of his stupid acting. She speaks in a stern and clear voice and looks him in his eyes. “Let me go, Ramsay.”

Ramsay steps forward, which causes her to retract, until she feels her heel tap the wall behind her. The light from the moon shines through the window over her shoulder, making his eyes seem ghost-like. “I want to trust you, my wife. I really do. But how can I?”

His eyes move downward, and he stops at her plush lips. “Hmm?”

She knows what he wants. He leans in slightly. He knows how much she hates it. She will take the beating, she will take the verbal abuse, but she cannot be intimate with him in that way. Kissing him, feeling his lips anywhere on her, it burns her the worst. In public, it's different, but right now, it's just for him.

She sniffs, still feeling the hiccups from her crying, then she leans in and gently, barely, kisses his lips.

He pushes back with brute force, although she thought the small peck would be enough after everything he just did. She attempts to back up, but he pushes forward. Her head is backed onto the wall, and as her mouth opens to protest he slides his tongue in.

Lana yelps and moves her head aside. Ramsay laughs. “Alright, alright.”

He puts his hands up, a faux-surrender. “I’ll stop. Okay?”

Beyond uncomfortable at this point, Lana looks down. Ramsay bends his knees a little so he can meet her eyes, keeping his hands up. “Alright? I'm stopping now. Promise.”

Lana follows his eyes as he straightens up, until he is towering over her once more. He is only a head taller than her, but she feels like he's an eight-foot monster. She can't understand what he’s playing at.

“I'm going to the maester,” she finally says.

“No, I’ll get him.” Ramsay turns his back to her and grabs his black linen pants. He puts them on and ties them around his waist. He looks at her once more, then leaves.

When she is alone, Lana bends over and clutches the table as if she’s lost all her breath. She begins to cry again. The pain is unbearable, but really she misses her father. He never would have let this happen. Lana used to hear him tell her mother all the time how much she reminded him of his sister, Lyanna. In looks and in personality. Now she and Lyanna had the same fate, that of prisoner. 

* * *

Suddenly, a thought pops in Lana’s head. What if he's not getting the maester? What if he is getting his hounds? She runs to the door and opens it slightly to check, but there is Ramsay, shirtless in the negative temperatures, talking to one of his men at the bottom of the stairs, as the maester heads up.

When he gets to her, Lana greets the maester. “Oh I'm so sorry, were you asleep?”

“No, my Lady,” the old man says. “I felt I would be needed tonight. Are you alright?”

It embarrasses Lana that everyone has a clear idea of what Ramsay had in store for her on her first night back. “I, um,” she holds her hand up. “I hurt my hand.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Much love.


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